Of Heroes and Villains
by The Emcee
Summary: It all started with a funeral and a wedding. Izuku barely had enough time to properly grieve for his recently deceased father figure before he was married off to one of the villain kings, Eraserhead. But there was nothing he could do; he was trapped.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Of Heroes and Villains

Author: The Emcee

Rating: M for sexual content and other mature themes

Disclaimer: I don't own My Hero Academia, its characters, the fandom, or anything. This is a work of fiction based off of the series _A Song of Ice and Fire_.

Summary: It all started with a funeral and a wedding. Izuku barely had enough time to properly grieve for his recently deceased father figure before he was married off to one of the villain kings, Eraserhead. But there was nothing he could do; he was trapped.

A/N: This is a work of fiction that has homosexual content, so if that disgusts you then don't read this. However, if you do read this then let me know what you think in the towel section down below or if there are any mistakes I've made. Enjoy!

 **~…~**

 **Of Heroes and Villains**

 **~…~**

 **Chapter 1**

 **~…~**

The sun shone brightly as it began to slowly set, it's light stretching across the horizon and causing the sky to bleed red, orange, blue, and purple. Sunsets were always beautiful in the city of Hiiroo, capital of Yuuei, but that wasn't the case today. Not for Midoriya Izuku.

Just as the sun had started to rise, his adoptive father, Yagi Toshinori, had been laid to rest in the royal crypts below the King's Keep. The funeral, which should have been long and ceremonious had been cut incredibly short in order to accommodate Izuku's wedding, which had just concluded, thus marking the beginning of the reception party. Around him, people were eating and drinking and dancing and singing merrily, yet Izuku was anything but happy. If anything, he was still stunned and numbed by Toshinori's passing.

Yes, he had known that his father was going to die. He had been severely ill for quite some time, but that didn't make his death any less traumatic. Toshinori had been his only family since his mother's death, when he was barely four years of age. And now, he was gone. Izuku didn't even have the time to grieve. As soon as the crypt was closed, he was ushered off to his bed chamber to change into his wedding clothes, a simple white tunic and trouser combination with soft leather shoes. It wasn't a comfort to him that the man he was marrying was one of the villain kings, Eraserhead.

Villains were not allowed to live within the wall that surrounded Yuuei, cutting it off from the villains' territory. Only heroes and their offspring were allowed to reside within Yuuei's boarders, unless they became villains; then they were banished to the outlands. No one was sure how many tribes of villains there were, but the tribe that Eraserhead led was one of the largest, strongest, and most problematic for the heroes of Yuuei.

After years of battles and casualties, Toshinori and Aizawa Shouta, Eraserhead himself, met to discuss a peace treaty. That meeting ended with them both shaking hands with a look of triumph in both of their eyes and Izuku gaining a fiancé. While he may not share blood with the late king, Izuku was named Toshinori's heir and as such would come into the throne upon his sixteenth name day, which was one year away.

Before that, however, he would live with his husband, travel with him, learn about them and, hopefully, be able to blend them into Yuuei's society somewhere along the line. That was the entire purpose for his marriage to Aizawa after all; to bridge the gaps between the heroes of Yuuei and the villains of the outlands. It would take time, Izuku had been told by his father, but it was possible. According to Toshinori, the future would start with him and his future offspring.

But right now, all Izuku could do was scream internally. Everything had gone by so fast that he barely had the opportunity to catch up and breathe. Formally meeting his husband had been utterly terrifying. Aizawa was taller than him, lean but with a hint of muscle underneath his black attire, and his eyes bore into Izuku's soul. Those eyes were so unfeeling and cold that it made him shiver. Never before had he seen such eyes and they above all else about his husband chilled him to the bone.

Glancing sideways at Aizawa, who was seated beside him, Izuku noticed that no song or joke or dance seemed to bring any sort of light or life from his eyes. None of the gifts or the people who set them before their platform brought any sort of emotion to him. Every once in a while, those eyes would narrow, but Izuku didn't know why they would. He was too afraid and nauseated to speak; all he could do was scream inside of his own head.

One set down on the wedding platform, Todoroki Shouto and his father, Enji, commonly preferred to as Endeavor, were seated. Izuku wanted nothing more than to crawl down to his best friend and hide behind him. Shouto, as son of the Hand of the King, grew up in the castle along with Izuku and they became good friends; best friends as a matter of fact. For the longest time, Toshinori and Endeavor had been going back and forth about a possible marriage between Shouto and Izuku, and truthfully Izuku would have preferred that over his current one. He didn't know whether he was in love with Shouto or not, though he did love him, but he mostly desired a marriage to him simply because he was familiar, kind, and good.

Izuku didn't know Aizawa. He didn't know whether or not he was honorable or kind or cruel and bloodthirsty. All he knew was that Aizawa was a villain to be feared, a man who could cancel any heroes' quirk just by looking at them, and there weren't many who tried to get in his way in the outlands. Or so he had heard. Whatever happened beyond the walls that confined Yuuei were a mystery to all those who resided within it. Only the villains knew what happened there or what the terrain was like.

And now, Izuku would be living in that world until his next name day.

All of these plans and expectations had been made without his consent or input, not that it mattered. He was quirkless and therefore considered by most to be a secondary citizen; at least, he would have been had his father not been the king. Since Toshinori had ascended the throne, laws had changed. A quirkless person could come into the throne if it was their right and if they were named the heir; his father had made it so that Izuku would rule when he passed. All in order to keep the throne out of Endeavor's hands, who hadn't been subtle about his desire to sit on it.

From what Izuku saw and from what his father had told him, Endeavor always had a chip on his shoulder, believing he was a better hero and leader than Toshinori ever was. But the abuse of his wife and children and the fact that he wasn't bore or married into the royal family ensured that he would never sit on the throne. In theory. For a long time Toshinori had believed that Endeavor was plotting to take the throne upon his death, and so he saw a solution that allowed him to solve two problems with one answer. Instead of practically handing Izuku over to Endeavor by marrying him to Shouto, he would wed Aizawa, one of the most feared and infamous villains alive, and bring the tensions between the two factions to an end.

"Ah, Hitoshi," came Aizawa's voice from beside him.

Izuku blinked and turned his head slightly to the left. A tall boy with untamed lilac hair and eyes that resembled his husband's. He didn't bow to Aizawa or greet him like he was the leader of their tribe. Instead, his posture and tone of voice had a familiarity to them that Izuku recognized immediately.

"My apologies for missing the wedding ceremony, Father," Hitoshi said. "My…assignment took longer than I expected." His eyes glanced over at Izuku for a brief moment, which caused Izuku to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"That doesn't matter to me so long as it was successful," Aizawa answered, his face softening as he spoke to his son. Izuku never thought his husband was capable of such affection, but he found himself a bit relieved. Perhaps he wasn't as cold and unfeeling as Izuku believed him to be.

"It was," Hitoshi confirmed and sat down on his father's left, where his personal guard would sit. Izuku saw Endeavor bristle at the act. The man wasn't used to being beneath a villain in any way.

The sun was set now and fires were burning bright, lighting the celebration. Aizawa's tribe has set up camp in the large, expansive fighting pit outside of the castle walls. As villains, they weren't trusted to be within the keeps and near so many valuables, so being outside was nicer than being cooped up in the castle. Past the see of dancers, singers, and people still eating, were the tents where the tribe would sleep that night before packing up upon sunrise and leaving the city. Villain tribes, apparently, didn't stay in one place too long until the winter time, then they would remain in their homes until the last snows had melted. Or so Izuku had read.

Aizawa stood up and stared down at Izuku. Clearly, it was time for the part Izuku had been dreading the most. Slowly, reluctantly, he stood up and, after taking Aizawa's hand, followed him down the platform and through the sea of people, all of whom quickly stepped out of their way. Behind them, Hitoshi followed at a distance, clearly keeping guard from any threats that may come their way.

Once they had passed the sea of bodies and entered the sea of tents, the celebration started again. Music and song echoed throughout the dark night. With every step he took, the fear and dread Izuku had been feeling all day began to bubble to the surface. He could feel his body shaking; he could feel the tears streaming down his face. His hand felt so small and fragile in Aizawa's own, which was larger, with more scars and callouses. The older man lead them to the center of the tent sea to where his own tent was, which was a bit larger, but still looked the same as every other in the area.

Hitoshi helped his father pull the tent flaps back to allow Aizawa and Izuku enter. Izuku assumed he stood guard at the parting of the flaps, but he didn't have time to dwell on it, and he didn't really care either. All of his energy was focusing on not breaking down completely in front of his new husband. Aizawa let go of his hand and it fell limply to his side. He listened as the older man began removing his clothes and his trembling got worse and a soft sob escaped his lips.

"Stop crying. You knew this would happen. It would irrational of you to think it wouldn't," Aizawa said behind him. It was almost as though he were speaking directly into his ear, though Izuku couldn't feel him so close. Perhaps it was his nerves.

Despite his words, his tone wasn't overly cruel or harsh. Aizawa stepped in front of Izuku, naked as the day he was born, lean and fit and hard as a rock, towering over him and peering down with his emotionless eyes. A brought a hand up and Izuku flinched, closing his eyes, expecting to be struck. Instead, he felt a feather light caress across his right cheek, wiping away the tears that fell. Then his head was cupped by both hands and he forced to look at the older man. Izuku's eyes opened and he watched at Aizawa scrutinized him, his eyes tracing every line of his head, every hair on his head.

Those hands eventually traveled down to his neck and then his shoulders. They gripped the white tunic and the flesh beneath it, massaging it gently. Despite his dread and tears, Izuku found that he didn't dislike Aizawa's hands touching his body, nor could he deny the tiny, barely present sparks that jolted throughout his body. That didn't mean he wasn't afraid however.

Without any further hesitation, Aizawa easily ripped the tunic apart and allowed the thin fabric to fall to the ground around Izuku's feet. With his chest bare, Izuku felt his face flush and he was tempted to hide himself with his arms, but he didn't. He could barely move, as a matter of fact, and all he could do was watch as Aizawa's hands caressed down his arms, his touch still gentle and light. They ran up Izuku's arms again before moving to his chest, exploring it with a gaze that was intense and almost seemed hungry. Or perhaps that was just Izuku's mind playing tricks on him in his distressed stay.

Fingers twirled around his nipples and pinched them, not enough to cause pain, but enough to earn a barely audible gasp from Izuku. A slight smirk crossed Aizawa's face as that tiny noise and he stepped closer, so close that if Izuku raised his hand half way, he would be touching him. Things continued that way for some time, with Aizawa pinch and flicking his nipples and then running down and up his sides before returning to torment them again.

At this point, something Izuku had never really experienced began to boil inside of him. Prior to tonight, Izuku had never found the need or desire to explore himself sexually. Most of his time had been spent studying and training with his father before he got severely sick, and then most of his time was spent helping to care for him. Even with Shouto close at hand, handsome and kind and sweet as always, Izuku never felt the pull to do anything.

Now that he had no real choice in the matter, he couldn't ignore the feeling in his stomach. It was like a heat that was threatening to rise and overtake him. An excitement he was unaccustomed to surged through his veins and made him want to reach out and touch his husband. But he still couldn't. The fear and dread hadn't been quelled and they kept him in control of his body.

Those hands traveled down to the hem of his trousers and danced there for a moment before being forced down Izuku's legs. Stepping out of his trousers and shoes, Izuku was now completely bare before the older man, who started circling him until he was right behind him. Izuku could feel Aizawa press his body close enough so that the tip of his cock brushed against his ass. Hands settled on his hips and caressed the soft skin there before Izuku was ushered to the cot a few feet away.

He was pressed down onto his hands and knees, his ass present to the cool night air, making him shiver. Aizawa sat down on his knees behind him and Izuku heard him take the lid off of small pot on the table that sat nearby the cot. Then, fingers dipped in a cold, sweet smelling oil began to probe his entrance, swirling around it before sliding inside. A hiss escape him as those fingers plunged deep into his body and moved, scissoring and stretching him. Every once in a while, they would barely brush against something inside of Izuku and made him whimper as pleasure surged through his body. That fire was rising even more and as much as he was loath to admit it, he was a roused. His cock was leaking precum onto the soft blankets below him.

After a few minutes of preparation, Aizawa withdrew his fingers and Izuku heard his lather his cock with the oil. His gut clenched in horrible anticipation; he knew that his husband's cock was far bigger than his fingers. It would hurt far more. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Despite his own body betraying him, Izuku still didn't want to be married to this man; he didn't want to be here, in this tent, naked and alone with him. He wanted to be in his bed and given time to grieve for his father. But he couldn't and wouldn't return to his bed for quite some time.

Whether he liked it or not, this was his reality now.

He cried out in pain when Aizawa entered him, his cock seated fully inside of him and pressing against the pleasurable bundle. The pain overwhelmed the pleasure and more tears spilled from his eyes. There was no reprieve for him, however, as his husband pulled out and swiftly thrust back into him. Izuku listened to the grunts and groans of the older man as he fucked him, his fingers gripping his hips tightly. Aizawa didn't touch Izuku, didn't whisper any words of comfort or kindness. All he did was thrust in and out of Izuku, using his body as something to fuck and deposit his seed. There was no love; why would there be? Neither of them loved the other.

When Aizawa lifted Izuku's ass higher and caused him to go down to his elbows, he began hitting that pleasurable bundle of nerves with every thrust. His thrusts were getting more erratic and harder, almost as though his very life depended on fucking Izuku into oblivion. Pleasure blinded Izuku and though he tried to reject it, he couldn't. It was too much for him.

With a soft cry that was drowned out by his husband's own sounds of pleasure, he came onto the blanket, his body tensing and stiffening. It seemed that Aizawa enjoyed that because his pace increased even more and before too long, he came deep inside of Izuku, his seed being planted as far as it could. He continued thrusting in and out as he came, riding out his orgasm.

After a moment or two, his body stilled and he leaned down slightly, his arms supporting his body. Sweat dripped down Aizawa's body, but Izuku wasn't thinking about that. Actually, he wasn't thinking about anything. He was panting softly, his body now so very sensitive to anything that touched it. That was how he knew Aizawa was still half hard inside of him, and that fact alone made dread creep back into his bones.

Sure enough, he felt Aizawa move behind him, pulling out slightly before burying his cock in Izuku's body once more. His body rocked and swayed with the force of Aizawa's fucking and all he could do was watch the blank canvas of the tent and take it for as long as his husband wanted it.


	2. Chapter 2

**~…~**

 **Chapter 2**

 **~…~**

Todoroki Shouto didn't care for celebrations. They held little appeal to him. People drank too much, ate too much, sang loudly and off-key, danced horribly, or made lewd, vulgar gestures that were uncomfortable to witness. And naturally, they were everywhere, in every direction he looked, except for where the honored guests and the bride and groom sat.

It hadn't been long since Izuku had left with Eraserhead, and he didn't need to guess to know what they were doing. Merely thinking about it caused his stomach to tie in a knot and made him clench his fists. He wasn't accustomed to this feeling and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. But the thought of Izuku being taken by that villain didn't sit well with him.

Or maybe it was what his father had told him prior to the wedding ceremony that had him feeling on edge.

He more than anyone else knew how evil and manipulative his father could be. Despite being the Hand of the King and a hero, Endeavor had more in common with the villains in the outlands then he did with All Might or any of the other heroes in Yuuei. And there was nothing Shouto could do to stop him, not really, not unless he wanted to end up like his mother and siblings. More than once he woke up from the memories of their screams and the flames that consumed them that often found their way into his dreams.

Apart from that, however, he didn't have many allies on his side; certainly not enough to stop an entire army along with the city watch. It didn't help that he had no idea who he could trust. Many of the soldiers and guards were paid by his father or by the Master of Coin, who was also in his father's pocket.

But perhaps he did have more allies than he believed.

Looking around, Shouto saw the faces of many villains that he was unfamiliar with. A vast majority of them weren't drinking wine or beer, but water, he noticed. That seemed odd to him; typically, wedding celebrations were full of drinkers, with the wine and beer following easily. And while there were plenty of people getting their fill, it was less than what he had expected and that perplexed him even more. In hindsight, it didn't surprise him; if what his father had told him was indeed true, then the pit would be following with blood before the sun had fully risen.

And Izuku would be among the casualties.

Just the mere thought sickened him. Izuku was innocent. Most of Eraserhead's tribe were innocent, as the wedding was part of the peace treaty he had made with King Yagi; they would not commit any crime while within the walls of Yuuei. King Yagi had been adamant about that and it seemed as though the villains had been keeping their word. So many lives would be lost and for what purpose? Wasn't this entire wedding to solidify the treaty? Why then go to such lengths?

Shouto would never understand his father nor did he want to.

His mind now made up, Shouto stood up and made to walk through the tents that the villains had set up, but his father's voice stopped him.

"Where are you going, Shouto?" his father demanded, his harsh gaze turning towards his son. Shouto refused to look back at him, not caring if he was being rude and disrespectful.

"For a walk," was all he said, and with that, he continued on his merry way. Whatever his father had to say afterwards fell on everyone else's ears but his own.

It took him a while to navigate through the bodies of the people, both intoxicated and sober, dancing and singing and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Every tent looked alike to him and he was growing frustrated. He knew what was most likely happening between Izuku and Eraserhead, but he had to tell them about his father's plot. Even if it was an empty threat, they had to know. Izuku was too important to him to lose like that.

After his mother and siblings had died in that terrible fire, the one that gave him the scar over his left eye, all Shouto had was his father. He would have preferred to be an orphan and the last of his house, yet it wasn't meant to be. Fate had been kind enough to give him a friend, someone he truly admired and loved above all else: Izuku.

Izuku was one of a kind. He was full of light and happiness and love. There wasn't a person he hated or loathed. If he could make a connection with someone he would. And almost everybody loved him, everybody except Endeavor. All he saw in Izuku was a line to the throne, the one thing he had always wanted above all else, so much so that he had tried for years to get the king to agree to joining their houses. None of his plans worked. King Yagi knew Endeavor almost as well as Shouto did; he could tell that his intentions were not good.

Not even the king could have imagined that he would be willing to murder thousands of people, his own son included.

Shouto wouldn't give him the chance.

He peered through the various tents, looking for one to stand out. Sure enough, one did, the one with the blue haired lad standing guard. Feeling his resolve reinforced, Shouto quickly made his way towards the tent. As he got closer, he could hear moans and grunts emanating from the tent. The closer he got, the louder and the more obscene they grew, and his face grew red along with them. But he refused to back down or run. This was something he had to do and this was the reality of the entire situation, regardless of whether he liked it or not.

The blue haired lad straightened up when he saw Shouto approach and he settled him with a stare that reached his bones. His feet didn't stop though; he was the son of Fire and Ice, the result of two houses and their powers joining together like the cords of a beautiful song. None would deter him.

"You're not getting inside, kid," said the blue haired lad. Shouto blinked. There couldn't have been more than a year that parted them, so why did the other refer to him as 'kid'? That question was irrelevant.

"I need to talk to your king and Izuku. This is an urgent matter," Shouto told him, not willing to back down.

"No more urgent than them consummating their marriage. It can wait until morning," was the answer he received. Shouto's fists were clenched at his side.

"You don't understand. This is a matter of life or death," Shouto pressed, taking a step closer. He received one in kind from the other, who towered over him by several inches.

"I doubt it," the lad said.

"Look, I-"

Before Shouto could finish he felt himself stop speaking. Not by his own volition, however. It was as though someone had taken hold of his mind and detached him from actively moving his lips or any other part of his body. He was still present within his mind and body, but he had no control of it. Was this the blue haired lad's quirk? Could he have such power? Shouto had never heard of someone having the ability to control someone's mind or body, and yet hear he stood, completely immobilized.

"Turn around and go home. Lock yourself in your bedroom and don't come out until dawn," the other ordered him.

Shouto's legs obeyed his commands. He watched with a detached sense of horror as he walked past tents and people and guards, none of them acknowledging him or noticing that anything was amiss. Before long, he was walking through the familiar corridors of the King's Keep, where his father's chambers and his own were. His bedroom door soon came into sight and in mere moments he had sealed himself away, just as he had been told to.

Of its own accord, without him actually moving his body, he laid down on his bed and listened as the celebrations continued. All he could think of was Izuku's beautiful smile and the stones of the pit bathed in blood.

 **~…~**

When Izuku was shaken awake by a rough hand, it was still dark out, the night still shrouding the encampment. Blinking blearily, he was beginning to sit up when clothes were haphazardly tossed at him. He barely caught them before they fell to the ground.

"Get dressed, my queen. We move out in ten minutes," Hitoshi told him, his eyes, scanning the surroundings outside of the tent flaps, which he held open, obviously keeping guard. Izuku didn't know what he was watching or listening for, but it worried him.

Standing up, Izuku felt a sharp pain spread throughout the lower half of his body. He hastily pulled the trousers on, a plain brown pair, before he pulled the shirt over his head, which was also brown.

"Is something wrong? It isn't morning yet, so why are we leaving?" Izuku asked Hitoshi. The other glanced back at him, making sure he was dressed before he took hold of Izuku's hand and pulled him out of the tent and towards a pair of horses.

"There's no time to explain. We must make haste now," was all the other lad told him.

"But what about the tents and-?" Izuku's question was cut off by Hitoshi lifting him onto the horse, a beautiful white mare with a silver mane and tail.

"Don't worry about them. You do know how to ride, correct?" Hitoshi asked, mounting his own horse, a chestnut color steed.

"Well, yes, but I'm not very good at it," Izuku replied as he ushered his mare to follow after him.

"No time like the present," and that was the last thing Hitoshi said to him as they made their way through the tents.

Most of the tribe was awake and gathering up the essentials that they would need for their travels. Confused, exhausted, and sore beyond belief, Izuku followed silently behind his husband's son. Aizawa was nowhere in sight, but by the length of the caravan, it was plausible that he was in front, leading the way. Izuku knew that any question he would throw at Hitoshi would be ignored, at least for the time being, so he kept them to himself. Perhaps they would be answered later on.

Not everybody was on horseback. About half of the tribe made their way on foot with haste, being as quiet as a cat hunting its prey. Only the horses' hooves and an occasional jostling of a pot against pans could be heard; certainly not enough noise to wake an entire city. Before long, the buildings began to scatter and thin out; they were leaving the city and making their way towards one of the four gates in the wall that separated Yuuei from the outlands. Izuku could see the gate opened up ahead, still a good distance away. Whatever the reason for their sudden departure, most of the tribe would make it through the gate before the sun would begin to rise.

He said not a word to anyone. What was there to say really? Izuku was tired and hurting in places that he had never hurt before. As a matter of fact, he was sure he could feel blood or sweat seep from his abused pucker, but he didn't want to check it. Aside from not wanting to lose his balance on the horse, he didn't want to know what it was for sure. Thinking about what Aizawa did to him made him shift uncomfortably in his saddle and he knew that things wouldn't get any better.

Whether he liked it or not, Izuku belonged to Aizawa now and he was expected to bear him a child, as was his role and duty. It wasn't a role or duty that he had wanted or asked for; it was decided for him by his father and agreed upon by Aizawa. And that was all there was to it.

On and on and on they traveled, the thunder of hooves and feet steady and swift and sure. The gate grew closer and closer and Izuku knew that they would be safe once they passed through it. How he knew that, he didn't know, but he did. It was like a beacon of hope and safety, though he didn't understand how the outlands could be safe. Villains were supposed to thrive and flourish there. If Izuku called correctly, and his memory might be hindered by his lack of sleep, but there were supposedly three or four villain tribes in the outlands, each led by a king.

As information about the other tribes was scarce, as they were notably smaller than Aizawa's. It didn't help that they preferred not to make contact with the heroes of Yuuei, whereas Aizawa enjoyed making the heroes squirm and attempt to chase him. There had been rumors that, prior to the peace treaty being signed and the wedding, Aizawa and some members of his tribe would climb Yuuei's walls and steal or plunder small towns and villages, but never the city. At least, that was what the maids and servants in the castle had said. Whether those rumors held any grain of truth to them, Izuku didn't know.

But his father had trusted Aizawa enough to make a pact with him and to give him his only son as a bride. Surely, that meant something. His father would never give him away to someone truly vile and evil.

Whether the rumors were true or not, Izuku would learn soon enough how the villains lived, what their lives were like in the outlands. He was no longer protected by the walls of Yuuei, or by his father. No one he knew or cared about was with him; he was truly alone. And though that thought frightened him, he had no choice but to stay. Running away wasn't an option, not in unfamiliar territory surrounded by people he didn't know.

Soon, the wall was towering over the caravan, the giant gates opened and ushering them into the dark wilderness beyond. Despite never having been in the outlands, they seemed far more inviting than the tense city had been or any of the homes and villages they had hurried through. Why it felt that way, Izuku didn't know nor did he understand where the tension was coming from. Not until he looked around at the faces surrounding him, both on horseback and on foot.

Most of them looked concerned, even afraid, but also determined, putting all of their energy into being as silent as possible and moving swiftly. One thing each and every one of them had in common was how tense their bodies were. They moved with a stiff speed, like their lives depended on them making a quick escape. Whatever they were running from, it must be truly terrible. Izuku had heard many tales about villains, but he had never heard of them being afraid or cowardly.

The gates loomed overhead and within seconds Izuku was passing through them, underneath the very wall itself. Traveling through the long, dark tunnel that separated Yuuei from the outlands, Izuku couldn't help but hold his breath. His heart seemed to stop beating and he and everyone around him was quiet. Only the horses and the tribe's feet echoed in the darkness.

Before long, they were exiting the wall and passing through the outer gates. Within minutes, they were free, free from the confines of Hiiroo and Yuuei and whatever danger had loomed above them. Relief washed over the caravan and seemed to wash them clean of whatever had been hunting them. The relief was so great that it was tangible to Izuku; it was as though a storm had dissipated from above them and now only the remaining night and the fresh scent of rain was left behind, embracing them all like a loving mother.

Hitoshi came to a trot beside Izuku and his mare. His shoulders had lost their tension and his face showed the same relief that everyone else in the tribe reflected. Though there were dark circles beneath his eyes, he was alert and focused, with a smile teasing his lips.

"I apologize for being so curt to you, my queen," he said, his sincerity evident in his voice. There it was again, the 'my queen'. At first, Izuku hadn't paid it any mind, but now, it was back again.

"Why did we have to leave so early, or late? And why are you calling me 'queen'?" Izuku asked him.

"My father is king of our tribe. You are his bride and, therefore, our queen," Hitoshi stated as though it were a matter of fact. "As to why we had to make such haste, we received information that our tribe would be under assault before dawn, and we needed to leave before that happened."

"I'm not a female, though. And under assault by whom?" Izuku pressed.

"You may not be a woman, but you are the king's wife and the one who will bear any future children of his. Those born without quirks have that one capability regardless of gender," Hitoshi answered, his tone making it seem as though such facts were common knowledge. While Izuku did know this beforehand, he didn't want to say so and cause a commotion over something so trivial.

"As for who planned to assault our tribe," Hitoshi continued, "can you honestly think of no one who would want to wipe out as many villains as possible?" The expression on his face was bittersweet, almost as though he loathed calling himself a villain.

As for who could be behind such a horrible attack, there was really only one person that came to Izuku's mind. But that wasn't possible. After all, the peace treaty was signed and everyone was expected to maintain that hard won peace, especially the Hand of the King. There was no possible way he would slaughter thousands of people who were under the king's protection.

Except the king was dead, and it was the Hand who ruled until Izuku would come of age.

"Endeavor wouldn't," Izuku said, so quietly that it was almost as though he were talking to himself. Hitoshi studied him for a moment, his expression eerily similar to Aizawa's own.

"He wouldn't, would he? Not even if it meant taking out the one obstacle that kept him from the throne of your kingdom?" he asked, though his questions sounded more like statements.

Izuku didn't know what to say, let alone think. Although he knew that Endeavor was vastly different from his father, he had thought, or hoped rather, that the man would have the same morals or beliefs as the king. Truthfully, Izuku had always felt rather uncomfortable around Endeavor. He always seemed like a stern, prideful man. Shouto had confided in him some of the things his father had done and those conversations alone made his blood run cold. He rarely spoke to the Hand except for when he had to; his father and the council were the ones that interacted with him the most. And Shouto as well, though he did his best to avoid his father as much as he could.

And while Endeavor was opposed to Izuku's marriage, having wanted him to wed Shouto instead, he had been the only one to object so passionately. Everyone on the council believed that Toshinori's decision to make peace with the largest tribes in the outlands was a good play, especially if the other villain tribes decided to make trouble for the heroes of Yuuei. But would Endeavor go as far as to murder thousands of people without giving them the chance to defend themselves.

Yes. Izuku believed that that man would do anything to get what he wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

**~…~**

 **Chapter 3**

 **~…~**

Flames, hot and fierce and angry, trailed after Endeavor as he stalked down the corridors of the castle. Servants and guards were quick to make haste whenever he turned a corner; none of them desiring the pain and scarring those flames could cause if their owner was in a foul enough mood. In truth, it always seemed as though the Hand was agitated, but it had never been as obvious as it was now.

His boots echoed throughout the castle, a signal to all that he was on his way. Behind him, having to run to keep pace with him, were two guards. Though they knew not why the Hand had demanded they follow him, neither of them dared to question his orders, or speak at all for that matter. The path that they were taking was a familiar one to both of them; it was the same route Endeavor always took when he needed to see his son and heir.

Shouto had not been seen since the reception party last night and while both guards briefly wondered if the King's Hand was worried about him, they knew that wasn't the reason for his early morning visit. The sun had barely rose when Endeavor's furious roar broke the calm of the King's Keep and he marched through the large doors looking like a mad man on the hunt. And Shouto was his prey.

Upon reaching his son's door, Endeavor didn't bother to knock or vocally announce his presence. With a fist covered in flames, Endeavor punched the wooden door hard enough and with such force that it burst off its hinges and splintered before striking the stone wall and fracturing even more. Shouto's body jolted upward with a start at the sudden intrusion, his clothes the same as the ones he wore to the wedding and reception, his hair slightly tousled. He had no time to react before Endeavor was pulling him out of bed by his throat and slamming his body against the wall.

"How dare you?!" the flame-cloaked man roared, eyes bulging from rage and madness. Shouto clawed at the hand that held him, gasping for breath, but it was no use. His father's grip was far too strong.

"Your Lord Hand, please! Stop this!" the one guard, Iida Tenya, pleaded. If Endeavor kept this up, he would surely kill the only child he had left.

"Until that little whelp returns to the kingdom with whatever devil spawn he'll birth, I am the acting king and Protector of the Realm, not the Hand," Endeavor reprimanded him with a low, menacing growl. "You warned them, didn't you?" He growled at Shouto, his face uncomfortably close to his son's. All Shouto could do was struggle and gasp for air, his face turning a dark shade of purplish red.

"We almost had them all. Now, all we have is a slew of corpses from the few hundred we managed to cut off and one survivor who is refusing to talk. All because of you and your damned affection for that little bitch," Endeavor snarled. "You. Ruined. Everything."

At long last, he released Shouto from his grasp, who crumpled to the floor and coughed violently, his hands clutching his throat. Endeavor's narrowed, piercing gaze turned towards the two guards.

"Lock him away in the dungeons," he ordered.

"My King, please," Iida began, but was swiftly cut off by the older man.

"Do not make me repeat myself!" he barked.

Without further hesitation, the two guards approached and picked the younger Todoroki up off of the floor. Their arms gripped held him firmly and were unyielding as they dragged Shouto, still coughing and wheezing, from his bedroom. All the while, Endeavor watched them, feeling not at all satisfied. He wouldn't sentence his masterpiece to death, but he would make him pay for his insolence.

 **~…~**

Kirishima Eijiro decided that he didn't like dungeons all that much.

They were dark, dank, cold, and uncomfortable. And they smelled of death and despair. This was his first time ever in one and he had no desire to be in another, or to remain in this one for that matter. But he was chained to the wall and could only move as far as the chain allowed him too. Even attempting to break them had proved futile; all he had accomplished was causing shallow cuts in his wrists and expend too much energy. All he could do in the end was sit against the cold wall and ignore the thin trail of water that was soaking the back of his tunic.

This certainly wasn't what he had expected when he first entered Yuuei the day before. Kirishima had expected to drink a little, eat some food, and maybe dance with a little before passing on his cot. Well, he had certainly done all of that, however no one had informed him that the camp would be leaving the kingdom mere hours after the party had died down. He woke with a start at the sound of people running past the emptied and abandoned tents before he left his own. Only when he stepped out into the morning sun, he had been quickly surrounded by guards and knights.

For whatever reason, he had been spared, but the few hundred or so others that hadn't been so lucky to make it out of Yuuei's walls had been slaughter mercilessly. He could hear their screams even now, pleading to live or encouraging others to keeping running. In the end, he didn't know how many of his fellow tribesmen had been killed; all he knew was that he was alive for whatever reason.

The only available source of light came from the few torches that were perched on the walls, and those were few and far between. Kirishima didn't know how much time had passed since he had been brought down here; maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours. All he really knew was that he hated being in this dungeon and that he'd rather be with his tribe; either the ones who had managed to make it out alive or not, it didn't matter to him.

He longed for the trees and the grass and the wind. Even before entering Yuuei, Kirishima had felt uneasy about the place. The wall made it feel more like a prison than a kingdom and he had always been grateful to have been born outside of that wall. Not that the outlands were a perfect paradise, but they didn't have a wall keeping them trapped inside. There was one thing both the outlands and Yuuei had in common, though: death.

Death followed every creature everywhere and didn't care if one was a sinner or a saint. The slaughter of his tribesmen hadn't been his first encounter with death. Kirishima's parents had died when he was a newborn babe and his only other family member, his half-brother Tetsutetsu, had been killed before his very eyes, by a man covered in hands. His entire bodied seemed to decay right and there had been nothing he could do to prevent it. That had been last year. So, Kirishima was well acquainted with death.

But he hadn't thought that it would follow the tribe into Yuuei. He was used to skirmishes and battles with rival tribes, both small and large, but a sneak attack right at dawn? And by people who called themselves heroes? Not only was that perplexing, but it was rather cowardly and unmanly. These people seemed worse than the so-called villains who lived in the outlands.

Footsteps came from the stairwell across the room along with light from a new torch. Not too long after the noises first began to echo in the dungeon, three silhouettes stepped down off of the stairs and into the larger room. Kirishima could tell that the two on the outside were guards, maybe knights, judging by their armor, but the one in the middle, who had white and red hair, appeared to be his age, and looked like death warmed over. Aside from looking tired and sweaty, there were fresh bruises beginning to form around his neck.

One of the guards opened the cell beside Kirishima's and tossed the boy into the cell. Almost like a sack of potatoes, he fell to the floor and didn't make any sudden movements. Before the first guard was able to close and lock the door, the second one stopped him, arm held out in front of him.

"He needs to be chained. I shall see to it that he is. You report back to the king," he said, his voice leaving little room for argument.

"Very well, _'Captain'_ Iida," the guard replied before tossing him the keys and leaving the same way that they had arrived.

Kirishima watched him go before turning back to his new neighbor and the remaining guard. Instead of doing as he had said and chaining the new prisoner up, the guard, Iida, merely closed and locked the cell door. From his left side, he unattached a pouch and gently tossed it through the bars. It landed on the ground beside the boy's head.

"I don't know how long you'll be down here, but try to make that last. I'll try to return in a few days to see how you're doing," Iida told him. He turned to leave before pausing and looking over his shoulder just as the other started to rise. "I suggest that you try not to cause a ruckus down here. I don't want to see your father hurt you again." With that, he left.

The boy grabbed the water pouch with one hand while he tenderly rubbed his neck with the other. Sitting back, he leaned against the wall and took a small swig of water. His chest was rising and falling and his eyes were bloodshot. Kirishima couldn't help but watch him; he was just so…different from anyone else he had seen before. Maybe it was his hair, or his eyes which were also different colors, or maybe it was the scar that covered the upper left half of his face.

Those eyes, one blue and one grey, slowly turned his way and Kirishima had a full view of his face. Not knowing what exactly to say, all he could do was lift one chained hand up and wave like a fool at him.

"You were staring," was all the other said. Kirishima released a soft, nervous laugh.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I just wasn't expecting to get a neighbor," he replied.

"Ah." The boy coughed. His voice sounded harsh and hoarse, even after having taken that sip of water. It must have been very painful for him to speak, yet he didn't show it. This guy was a man!

"I'm Kirishima Eijiro," Kirishima introduced himself, giving the other a small smile.

"Todoroki Shouto," Todoroki said with a tilt of his head.

Well, if he was going to be stuck in this dungeon for a while, at least he had someone to talk to now.

 **~…~**

They began to make camp just as the sun began to set.

After riding since the middle of the night, Izuku was more than happy to dismount his mare. He had grown fond of her while on the move and hoped that she would be his. She had seemed so gentle and good-natured that he didn't want any other horse.

Looking around, Izuku could see for miles. They were making camp in the plains that stretched for miles and miles past the woods that shrouded Yuuei and its wall. Grass swayed as a light breeze wound its way across the flat expanse Izuku saw. Further in the distance to the north was a mountain range. Hitoshi had told him that it was those mountains that they were heading towards. Sooner rather than later, the summer would end and it would be ideal to move the tribe to one of the cities that had been carved into the mountains long ago.

Prior to Yuuei being founded and cutting off the outlands from the rest of the kingdom, the first men and women had built massive homes and strongholds in the mountain range that lined the land. The biggest and oldest one, the one that was situated in the middle of the range, was where they were heading to. From what Hitoshi had told him, all of the tribes were planning to meet there. Apparently, Aizawa was hoping to unite them all as they had once been, but no one knew how well that meeting would go.

The very knowledge that the tribes had been one once was new to Izuku. He had always thought they had been separated from the very beginning, but that was not the case. Hitoshi had left his side to go assist with preparing the encampment, so Izuku hadn't been able to ask him anymore questions aside from that.

Patting his mare's neck, Izuku began to make his way through the camp. They must have camped here before arriving at Yuuei because there were a lot of tents that had still been standing when they arrived. Now, people were gathering resources for the fires they'd be making and the food they'd be preparing for supper. Most of them were talking and chatting excitedly, others were shouting orders to get this or that done. All of this was so different from how life inside the King's Keep had been.

Almost everyone stared at him as he walked past, some muttering and whispering as he did so. Never before had he felt quite like a fish out of water. Somehow, some way, he would become one of them and bear a child of both worlds, but that wouldn't be for a while yet. Seemingly out of nowhere, Hitoshi came and began walking beside him. Izuku had thought, hoped, that he would return to his father's side, but that clearly wasn't the case. Though he wasn't sure how to handle or act around the taller lad, Izuku did feel a bit better at having a familiar face around.

"My queen, we have some rabbits and squirrels cooking on the fire," Hitoshi informed him. Izuku shook his head.

"I'm not hungry," he said softly. He hadn't been hungry since his father had died. His appetite had vanished and, in truth, he didn't want it back. It wasn't hard to ignore the ache of his stomach when the ache in his backside felt far worse.

"You need to eat. Starving yourself won't do you any good," Hitoshi told him, his tone not unkind.

"I'm not starving myself. I'm merely…trying to adjust to my new life," Izuku replied, stopping and glancing at his blue haired companion.

Then his eyes traveled over the tents and the people, all busy with whatever evening chores that needed to be tended to. He had made it to the heart of the camp. Not far from him was Aizawa, talking with a few men, whom Izuku had seen with him whilst riding. Perhaps they were part of his guard as well? He didn't know and didn't really care to know. When Aizawa's eyes met his own across the distance, Izuku knew what the night had in store for him and he looked forward to it as much as he had the evening before.

A hand, strong and sturdy, was placed on his shoulder. Izuku looked up and met Hitoshi's gaze. For the first time, there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before and it made Izuku relax ever so slightly.

"Father isn't a mean or cruel man. He has a heart and cares deeply for those worthy of him," Hitoshi told him. He squeezed Izuku's shoulder. "Things will get easier if you stop playing the victim."

At that, Izuku pulled away from his grasp and glared at him. His heart was pounding in his chest. How dare Hitoshi say such a thing to him?! He wasn't playing anything; he wasn't an actor or anything of the sort. Did Hitoshi assume that Izuku was trying to gain attention or something of that nature? If he did, was he the only one or were there others in the tribe who thought that he was playing a fool?

"I am no victim, sir," Izuku ground out, trying to remain civil despite his blood boiling.

Without another word, Izuku stalked towards where Aizawa and presumably their tent was. He didn't look or talk to anyone, not even his husband, who was eyeing him with uncertainty in his gaze as Izuku entered their tent. Relieved that he had been correct, Izuku sat down on the cot and tangled his fingers in his hair. For the first time in his life, he wanted to punch something or someone or do anything really that would relieve the stress he felt.

Sighing, partly in frustration and partly in exhaustion, Izuku laid down on the pillows and blankets that littered the cot. All he wanted to do was sleep, and before he knew it, darkness shrouded his vision. But he didn't sleep long.

Izuku woke to fingers peeling his clothing off and the sound of his shirt and trousers hitting the ground. Those fingers were crawling up his thighs and hips and then up and down his sides. In his tired haze, those hands felt amazing on his body and he wanted to relax and allow his naked body to be caressed. He didn't get that chance, though. Before he knew it, he was being yanked backwards until his ass was in the air and his elbows and forearms were cushioned on some pillows.

Fingers slicked with oil poked and prodded his pucker before plunging in just as they had the night before. Somehow, without even looking at him, Izuku knew it was his husband; he had felt those fingers touch him several times the previous night, how could he not know?

Once he was properly stretched and prepared, Aizawa entered him, burying his cock as deep into Izuku's body as he could. Pain flooded his senses and Izuku groaned out before biting his bottom lip. He didn't want to make any sound; he didn't want Aizawa to know he was in pain and that he wasn't enjoying himself. Not that Aizawa seemed to care if Izuku was getting as much pleasure out of their coupling as he was. Actually, Aizawa didn't seem to care for him at all. That didn't make him feel any better about this entire situation.

For a while, every thrust caused pain to spasm throughout his body and it was all Izuku could do to remain under Aizawa and stay still. He felt his husband shift and his thrusts starting hitting that spot within Izuku's body that caused him to see stars and feel pleasure cascade in waves all over his body. Soft moans began to escape him, but he couldn't let himself go, he just couldn't. Despite the pleasure he was being given, Izuku still didn't really want this; he didn't want Aizawa taking him like a hound takes a bitch, he didn't want their marriage period.

' _Things will get easier if you stop playing the victim.'_

Those words returned to Izuku in full force and he felt his blood begin to boil yet again. Just as he had told Hitoshi, he was no victim; he refused to be, if only to make Hitoshi eat those words. With his resolve reinforced, Izuku took Aizawa's cock again and again, steadying himself and refusing to back down.

A surprised grunt escaped his husband, but other than that, there was no other acknowledgement that something had changed. Beneath them, the cot creaked and groaned. Outside, people talked and laughed and fires burned and crackled, sending cinders and smoke into the air.

When Aizawa came inside of him, he pushed Izuku down into the pillows in order to bury himself and his seed deep inside of his body. The force of that caused some discomfort and pain and Izuku couldn't help but hiss at that. He had no time to recover before Aizawa was thrusting in and out of him again, his half hard cock becoming engorged once again as he did so. Just like their wedding night, this was going to be a long night for Izuku.


End file.
